


The Vertical and the Horizontal

by brocanteur



Category: Birds of Prey (Comic)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/pseuds/brocanteur
Summary: Brief interlude during Birds of Prey #5. Starling makes bad choices.I FOUND IT FOR YOU MARY
Relationships: Evelyn Crawford/Dinah Lance
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	The Vertical and the Horizontal

The shooting range was a bad idea. After ten minutes, her trigger hand aches, its fingers tight and unresponsive.

(Ev briefly considers Ivy’s mention of a busted hand, _Ev’s_ busted hand, but it’s not, _it isn’t_ , and wouldn’t she remember something like that happening? Her hand is fine--it’s sore but it isn’t broken. Not that she’d trust anything that tossed salad had to say, anyway.)

Drinking was a worse idea. She isn’t a good drunk, never has been. Certain tendencies are exacerbated. There was that time she knocked a guy through a plate glass window because he grabbed her ass, for instance. The time she socked a cop because he wanted to haul her in for public intoxication. The time she made out with a girl who wasn’t June. There’s that.

Dropping in on June, that was another disaster. Ev knew it would be, but she was lonely and June… She was almost always willing to forgive the forgotten: dates, birthdays, I-love-yous. This is different. They are over and done with and June is right when she says _over and done with_ means Ev can’t come over at two in the morning and expect bourbon and a warm bed.

So here she is, hurting and almost sober, on a meandering path toward Dinah Lance’s apartment.

Golly, what a rotten idea.

And so she goes with it. She puts her head down, wraps her jacket tight around her torso, and runs toward imminent disaster.

Once. She’d shared Dinah’s bed once, in college, back when Dinah had a brief spell of _Why not?_ and the closest guinea pig was one Ev Crawford, willing participant in any and all experiments conducted by tall, leggy blondes. It’d been a hoot and a half, and maybe it would’ve continued to be, but Dinah was gun shy and sex ruined friendships. That’s what everyone said, right? Ruined friendships. And Ev didn’t want to ruin her friendship with Dinah.

But.

When Dinah opens the front door to her apartment, she’s wearing an enormous Gotham Knights t-shirt. Her mouth is turned down at the corners. Her hands are fisted.

“Just me, Canary,” Ev says, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “May I…?”

Dinah steps aside, posture stiff, like she’s waiting for a bomb to go off.

“Ev… Starling, what’s going on? It’s--”

“Late. Early. Whatever. I mean, I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just--"

“No.” Ev sighs. “I mean, for this.”

It shouldn’t be this easy, pinning Dinah. It wouldn’t be, if they were actually fighting. Not that Dinah doesn’t, a little, what with the surprise of it, of being grabbed by the shoulder and shoved into the nearest wall. But then Ev’s mouth finds hers and she gasps and sinks back, pulling Ev with her, into her.

“Oh.” A ragged breath against Ev’s ear. “You should’ve said something.”

“Like what?”

“It’s polite to ask.”

“Yeah, but I figured you’d crack my jaw if I crossed a line. So I took my chances.”

“You crossed a line, Ev.”

But when Ev begins to retreat, Dinah locks arms around her waist.

“No, no. I’m tired, and I‘m wound tight, but if you kiss me again, I’ll kiss you back. I’ll take off your clothes and I’ll let you sleep off the whiskey. Deal?”

“What a question.”

The second kiss is like firing something new and big; like that that recoil that half scares, half thrills. Ev wonders if that’s what it’s like for Dinah, if she minds that Ev isn’t exactly a smooth operator—that she considers fucking and fighting two sides of the same coin.

(When Ev slips her hands under Dinah’s shirt, she takes a peek to make sure they’re still on the same page. And, yup, they must be. Dinah’s eyes are half-closed and she’s breathing hard, but she’s smiling through it all and nodding, encouraging.)

They drag each other to the ground, Dinah on top and grinding into Ev’s thigh. _Wow, okay,_ Ev thinks, hands gripping Dinah’s back, hard. They make out for a long time. Dinah’s greedy; Ev gives her whatever she wants.

And when Dinah shifts down between Ev’s legs and unbuttons, unzips, tugs, she doesn’t seem as inexperienced as Ev would’ve imagined.

“God, your mouth,” Ev groans, bucking.

Dinah looks up and smiles before returning to her task and she’s so good at what she’s doing, it doesn’t take Ev long at all. She comes, a string of expletives tripping from her tongue.

“Lord above.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hold on a sec, and I’ll return the favor.”

She does, so enthusiastically she’s sure Dinah’s legs will stop shaking sometime next year.

Her head is still between Dinah’s thighs when Dinah, her voice quavering, says, “I don’t trust my memory, Ev.”

Ev frowns. “What?”

“Nothing. I just… What was I saying?”

She wakes up on her couch, neck stiff, mouth dry. The TV is tuned to white noise.

Last she remembers, June was pointing at her door. “Get out,” she’d said. “For good, Evelyn.”

Ev flexes her fingers and grimaces.

Shooting, whiskey, June. Bad moves all around.

And still, she can’t remember how she got home.

Well, _shit._


End file.
